Playing With Fire
by irrevocably ives
Summary: You're always told that when you play with fire you'll get burned, badly. But Olivia never knew how true that could be. How badly is Olivia willing to get burned to save her president, to save herself? It's a risky game she plays..
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Hussy," he whispers under his breath, from the corner hoping nobody notices. Of course I notice. The corners of my eyes become grainy with unshed tears for a moment, but I quickly replace it with a blank face awaiting their responses. "Congratulations," Mellie smiles broadly, but I notice the iciness in her eyes and the tightness of her smile. Nevertheless, I smile and hug her back. Cyrus has yet to speak and I know it's because he suspects the father is standing in the room. I won't give him the satisfaction of giving anything away. Finally, he looks at me, glances down at my stomach then back up to my face, then quickly at the man who has yet to officially say anything. "I'm happy for you," he says almost sincerely, but I can see the sadness and disappointment in his eyes. I smile and nod my thanks.

Minutes pass before the man standing in the corner looks up, as if realizing that we are all still here. There is emptiness in his eyes that has never been there before as he looks at Cyrus and Mellie, assuming I wouldn't notice. "We need the room," he says quietly.

Nobody moves, afraid of what the POTUS will do. When he realizes we aren't obeying him, the small vein in his neck starts to throb and he glares down at Mellie and Cyrus with a look that could freeze a lion about to pounce on its prey, "We need the room," he roars, catching everyone, but me off guard. He has a tell when he is fuming.

Mellie and Cyrus have no choice but to exit the room, preferring the consciences of the fixer and the POTUS in a room together rather than deal with a ragging president. As the door quietly closed, I rounded on him. My open hand connects with his check with a gratifying 'thump', as his cheek turns red from the force of the hit.

His eyes go from anger to hurt and back again in a matter of seconds, but I don't care. He doesn't get to make me feel sorry, not this time anyway. "You just slapped the President of the United States of America," he whispers quietly. I know I should feel ashamed about that, but I don't.

"You are despicable," I seethe, suppressing the urge to slap the other side of irritating face. "You don't get to say that about me, you have no right," I snap, not allowing him to get a word in. "Who cares what I do, you are _married_," I emphasize the last word, hoping to hurt him as deeply as he hurt me.

"Livvie how-," I hold up my hand, I can feel myself starting to shake and I hate how out of control he makes me feel.

"No, don't Livvie me, you don't get to do that, you don't get to say that and defend yourself," my voice gets louder and less shaky as I continue. "We aren't together Fitz. We never were. You're _married_," I emphasize again, hoping he will get the point as I yell at the floor because I can't look into those gray eyes, they'll make me crumble. I have to be strong, not just for me anymore either..

"What we had was childish and stupid and purely physical," I trail off, running my hand through my thick, unruly hair, slowly running out of steam. But being exhausted and running on fumes of anger is dangerous, it leaves me vulnerable and at his mercy. I'm not ready for that, as far as I'm concerned, I'll never be ready for that. My heart can't ever bear that.

So I don't. I fight against my exhaustion to keep him from speaking, "I was just one of many, don't think I'm that naïve Mr. President because we both know that's a lie. Just because I was gone don't think I didn't know about Amanda Tanner and the countless others," my hand flicks the air as if slapping for a fly, "Don't think for one second I didn't hesitate to destroy her, all of them for," but I can't finish the sentence, I can't lie to myself anymore. I can't say _it_ anymore. There is no possible way for me to admit there had ever been an us, there couldn't have been. It's just that simple. I was breaking and couldn't keep myself together anymore; it horrified me.

The tension in the air was tightening and I know Fitz won't be able to keep quiet for long. He is a politician after all, he would always defend himself. But I am weak, too frail. I'm not ready to face what he has to say, so I continue.

Babbling and babbling, like verbal diarrhea, unable to stop because I secretly hope that if I keep going I'll hurt him like I had been hurt, "You cheated on your mistress with your girlfriend. You," I jab my finger into his chest, not realizing he is so close, "Can't judge me, you have no right," the flames of anger that have burned in me for months are being extinguished though, and I end up just whispering the last part.

"Livvie," he starts again, stepping forward, I step back. "Please," it is a plead, a plead I don't know what for. He tries stepping closer and I simultaneously step back. We play in limbo for seconds, minutes, hours. Forward and back, forward and back, until I am pressed against a wall with nowhere else to retreat to. He is closer than before, I can smell his clean, musky scent. He is so close, I can see his chest rise and fall from labored breathing from trying to control himself and his muscles contract under his thin shirt. It drives me wild.

"Please Livvie," he whispers, his sweet breath washing over me. Again, I don't know what he is asking for but in that moment I would do anything for him because I am pathetic and hate to see him beg. I try my hardest to hide it, but I know I fail miserably.

"Look at me."

It wasn't a question to his pleading anymore, it was a statement. Those three words bring my resolve back in place and I feel in control, like I can almost survive with him thinking those horrid thoughts about me.

I know he realizes it too because he instantly stiffens, but doesn't move. "Look at me," he presses again, trying to get closer and I instantly bristled, shaking my head again, being stubborn. As much as I told myself that is why I won't look at him, I know it was because I am afraid my resolve would crumble- my heart can't take looking at him, hurting. His expressive gray eyes can make me tell him anything. I can't do that, it is too dangerous for reasons I refuse to evaluate.

"Look at me dammit," he slams his fist into the wall beside my head making me jump. Anger! I can deal with his anger, it is everything else. Everything else is too messy, too complicated.

The next time he grabs my chin, yanking it up. I still keep my eyes downcast though, and I can tell it is killing him not being able to see my eyes.

It is happening before I can stop it. The president is pushing me further into the wall crushing his lips to mine. I can feel his lithe, muscular body holding me captive as our lips touch. It's electric. I remember how perfect we were, all the happy moments we had together, how much love there was. But it only took me a moment to push him away too. He doesn't protest like I assumed he would and it shocks me. Finally, I look at him and he sees the unbidden lust there and that is all the ammunition he need.

After all these months of me being blank and distant, showing him my emotions unwillingly did unsettling things to me. The smug expression playing at the corner of his mouth sends me over the edge. He knows that if he keeps pushing he'll get me to show my cards. My itching hand gets the chance to slap the smug expression off his face, and it is the most satisfying feeling of my life.

Rubbing his other cheek, he doesn't take so lightly to it this time. His anger is back in full force. Unfortunately, I can't look away from him, and I know I am going to be burned, and badly. At this moment he is so full of passion and life and fire and energy, he is mesmerizing. "Dammit Olivia," Fitz speaks deathly calm despite his spiraling emotions and smoldering gray eyes, "You," he says it like it leaves a putrid taste in his mouth, "Have no right to say jack shit about what happened," spitting my words back at me. "You know it was never just about sex Olivia, how dare you call yourself a mistress," his face screws up in disgust again at the mention of the word, "That's such bullshit and.." he shakes his head defeated.

"Mr. President," I sigh, truly exhausted, this time he cuts me off though. Our roles are reversed and I don't know how to act. It's a risky game to give him the upper hand, especially when you are playing with fire.

"Olivia just shut the hell up," Fitz said, glaring at me as he pushes off the wall to pace in front of me, running both hands through his unruly hair. I look at him, astonished, his emotions are more tangled then mine.

Watching him closely, I notice him going between rage and misery. He can't decide which emotion to unleash on me. That scares me. I can handle anger. But depression..sadness? Those emotions not only scare me- they _petrify_ me

Finally he decides one. It isn't the right one. "Livvie," he whispers, trapping me against the wall again, looking defeated, "Is it mine?"

The question hangs in the air between us for several minutes. My eyes that had previously been looking into his bright gray ones immediately drop as my teeth grasp my full bottom lip.

I silently kick myself, knowing my reaction gives me away. He wants to hear me say that it is his, but I won't. It is better to lie, for everyone involved. My silly mistake doesn't just affect Fitz and me, it affects the whole country. So I have to, I have no choice.

Getting my emotions in check, I look back up at Fitz with a cold, hard look in my eyes. Pushing against Fitz's chest, he moves back immediately, like I burned him. Walking towards the door, I don't look back until I am turning the knob.

I answer with one word, looking into his eyes as I say it. The look he gives me tells that I have just ripped his heart out, but I have to pretend like this isn't killing me just as much as it is him.

"No," I whisper and walk out.

**A/N**: I know nobody ever really takes the time to read these things, but in case you do, I have several things to cover. A) Thanks for reading! And hey, if you review, you are technically a writer too! How cool is that? B) I have to important people to thank for making this story as good as it could be.. babycakesbriauna for editing and amaryllis214 for pre-reading. You guys rock! C) If you aren't reading the above authors stories, DO SO NOW! They are very good and won't disappoint. D) This is a prologue to a story, so the next installment will be where our little tale starts, so don't get confused! E) I'm done. So become a writer too and review please! F) Ooops, one more thing, have a splendid day and I hope a little Fitz and Liv throw down can surely brighten your day!


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

The elevator of the New Hampshire hotel they had us stashed in dinged, allowing me to step into it and head down to the conference room that the Grant administration had been allowed to set up camp in during the campaign. As the elevator numbers moved slowly down, giving you that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach, my mind began to wonder. I couldn't suppress the slow smile that spread across my face. There was something about elevators that just made people do crazy things. She was no exception.

For me, it had all started with the truth. His expressive gray eyes burned into my own chocolate orbs as I loaded the truth about why he was losing the hearts and minds of the American people on him. Then an angered man. An awkward moment. A smile. That simple act set things in motion. I should have set him straight, but I couldn't. An elevator. Brushing hands. A speech. An almost… Things were slowly spiraling out of control and I don't know if I can fix it. I don't know if I can handle it.

The more I thought, the angrier I got. He knew what he was doing. He knew the danger he was putting on his campaign. He knew how wrong it was. He knew how it made me look…

It was easier to blame him than face the fact that as of twelve hours ago, I had become the other woman. That I had consciously made the decision to cross _that_ line. I tried reminding myself that it took two to tango, but it didn't quell the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach nor the anger bubbling in my blood. As effortless as it would be, I couldn't just fault him. He had given me a way out, multiple times. Every time though, I lead him on, blurred the lines between us even more. Sighing, I frustratingly ran a hand through my arrant curls.

What had I just done? The question should have cleared my mind. Make me feel numb, want to crumble, but I was the fixer and I was already planning how to fix everything I had ruined. But I didn't know if I was already in too deep… My head now not only ached, but throbbed as my mind continued to race at all the possibilities how this could hurt him. I was no longer Olivia Carolyn Pope, the great fixer, the political nun. I was Olivia Carolyn Pope, the presidential mistress, the home-wrecker.

Monica Lewinski. Marilyn Monroe. Jayne Mansfield. Blaze Starr. Judith Exner. Gennifer Flowers. I was going to be one of them. I _was _one of them. The media ate them up and spit them out. That couldn't happen. I _couldn't_ end up like them. Ashamed, scared, scarred? Afraid to leave my house? I vowed I would never be one of them, I swore to myself I would never have to deal with feeling the way those women did. No matter what that meant for Fitz and me. I would protect myself first and for most.

I had to. Not only for my reputation, but _his _reputation. Fitz didn't understand how the media could be; or the stomach for the things that they would say. It may be cruel and heartless, but I had to pretend like nothing happened between Fitz and me. The ding of the elevator alerted me to the fact I had to compose myself and become the political nun, fixer that I no longer was. The feeling twisted my already queasy stomach that much tighter. Walking out of the elevator with my head held high, I pledged to be strong and indifferent no matter what. I had a president to make after all and getting involved in any way besides a professional one would be wrong.

Despite my new resolve the moment I heard her name I wasn't so sure it would work. "Liv," a deep, raspy voice came from behind me. I knew that voice; I'd know it anywhere. Just fantasizing about the deep baritone voice sent shivers down my spine. But hearing him whisper my name so close, it did inappropriate things to me. Shaking my head, I tried to control my emotions before facing the love of my life.

Turning I met the hooded, smoldering gray eyes of the only man who could make me weak at the knees by just one look- Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. My breath hitched when I saw the unbidden lust within his probing eyes. My eyes stayed locked on his as a slow, cocky smirk spread across his unconventionally handsome face. Trying to act defiant I plastered a smile on my face, looking at his chiseled chest for a moment to mask my emotions before meeting his gaze again, "Good morning Governor Grant," I smiled professionally before turning to walk into the conference room.

Fitz grabbed my arm before I could walk to far away. The force with which his hand gripped my arm, almost hurt, knocking me slightly off balance in my four-inch Louboutins. Pulling me into an empty conference room only a few feet away from their own was risky and looking into Fitz's eyes, he knew the danger. "Governor, we have to be there in ten minutes, we are leaving at six to get to the events for today," I reminded him thoughtfully.

Before I could turn to continue, he had me pressed against the door we had just walked in. "Give up the Governor Grant bullshit, we are so far past that," he huffed, invading my space. I wanted to recoil from him, but being pressed against the wall restricted my movements. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours I was gazing into the eyes that had haunted my dreams, the ones that had little flecks of deep blue on the edges of his iris that you only notice if you looked closely.

"No," I shook my head, not going to break my professional resolve. "You need to get to the conference room, you have briefings and speeches to go over and I don't have time for this either," I stated rationally wanting to put distance between us.

Fitz's eyes went from utter lust to confusion to realization in several seconds. "Livvie, _don't_," he pleaded, I rolled my eyes. I can't believe that after one night of recklessness he wanted more.

"Governor Grant no, you don't," I pushed on his chest, feeling the definition that I knew was there. His eyes closed for a moment at the skin to skin contact. "Last night was a mistake. Last night can't happen again, _ever_," my statement was matter of fact and left no room for negotiation. "Now you have speeches to memorize, babies to kiss and meetings to attend to," I patted his chest with a tight lipped smile. "And while you are off doing that important stuff, I'm stuck doing the dirty work. I have news channels to check, polls to look at and the list goes on and on," I stated again, moving to walk past him out of the empty conference room, down the hall from our own.

His hand caught my arm again, much gentler this time, tugging me back to him. I came willingly. "You didn't enjoy last night," he questioned, his eyes suddenly becoming uncertain and worried, burning for me to contradict his words. I felt awful for making him doubt himself, but I knew he had had many women. He knew that he wasn't disappointing in any way.

I should have let him think that I didn't enjoy myself, but that would have been a lie and I couldn't lie. Not to him and certainly not to myself. His ego didn't need the extra stroking after all, but I couldn't stop myself from uttering the words that involuntarily popped out of my mouth. "No, I did," those few words shouldn't have made a difference, it was the truth, but it did. His eyes lit up with happiness and pride.

"Then don't run away from me," Fitz's warm, minty breath washed over my face. "It wasn't a mistake Livvie, don't you feel this," he asked, cornering me again. Running his hands up and down my arms before resting them on my slender hips pulling me and simultaneously pushing me back into the wall before continuing to speak. "I know you feel it, you felt it last night and now you want to pretend like it didn't happen, why Livvie?"

I shook my head, he wasn't supposed to want more, it was supposed to make him focused and more dedicated to his wife now that he had had me. "It's not that simple Governor Grant and you know it," I sighed, trying to push him away again, but the grip he had on me was too strong. "You aren't a normal man, you are running for president. It's wrong either way and I can't continue like this, we need to be professional," I answered. He couldn't throw away all of everyone's hard work. Besides, dropping out this late in the game would raise suspicions, not that I would let him do that.

"Livvie for one minute pretend I'm not Governor Grant and like you aren't the campaign fixer, just be. Lay it on the line," he whispered into her ear this time, brushing his fingers up my arm, tilting my chin up towards his. "Look at me and tell me you didn't like me touching you," his voice took on a huskier tone. "Tell me you didn't like me dominating you and fucking you until dawn," Fitz said, his hand leaving my chin to travel down my neck to the v-neck of my white eye-lit blouse. "Tell me you didn't like me ripping off your clothes, tell me you didn't like me devouring you," with each statement his voice grew more gruff and his dexterous fingers started undoing the buttons of my shirt.

I was powerless to stop him, my breath coming in soft pants as his hands made quick work of my shirt discarding it on the floor. Once he had it off, his eyes were licking up my exposed flesh. Things were escalating too quickly and truthfully I didn't want to stop, but I had to. "Someone could walk in," I tried to rationalize.

"Just tell me you didn't like marking me as yours, just tell me you didn't like it, me and I'll stop," he whispered out. But I couldn't, we both knew I couldn't because I was too weak.

"We can't do this," I rasped out as his hands finally made contact with my bra covered breasts. I arched up into him, letting out a soft moan.

Fitz smirked down at me, but I barely noticed. My eyes were mirroring his –lust filled, half hooded, past the point of caring if anyone walked in on us. "Say those four words and you'll never have to worry about me again," Fitz whispered, bending his head to my dark mocha chest placing soft butterfly kisses there, making a trail up my neck, behind my ear, finally landing on my lips.

I lost it. My hands flew to his perfectly coiled hair, tugging him closer to me. I moaned into his mouth as his hands found purchase on my backside, pulling me closer. I could feel his excitement through his thin trousers and willed myself to say those four words to make him stop. I couldn't. His tongue probing my mouth made me completely lose all rational thought.

My hands slowly made their way from Fitz's crazy curls to his shoulders, beginning their work on his white button-up oxford. I had just pushed the offending shirt off his shoulders, as I felt the muscles ripple under my touch as my hands came to rest on his well defined pectoral muscles.

We moved further into the room, bumping into a table. I was hoisted up onto the table suddenly and Fitz slammed me down onto the it. He was pushing me back, making quick work on the button and zipper of my own trousers when Cyrus's voice rang through the door as he passed. It made both of us freeze, our eyes going wide.

Looking around the room, at our discarded shirts and compromising position, I pushed him off me, running both hands through my hair before walking swiftly over to my removed shirt. Putting it on with ease, I tried to focus on getting my hands to stop shaking.

How could I have almost let that happen? My head was back to thinking of all the previous presidential mistresses because let's face it; with me behind his campaign, Fitz would win the presidency in a land slide. The head ache that had subsided came back in full force, making me want to climb back into bed and never wake up.

I didn't want to face Fitz, but I knew I had to. "This can't happen again, ever," I reiterated to him as I turned, busying my hands to tidy my hair so he wouldn't notice that I was shaking. Although looking at him it didn't seem he was fairing much better than me, but I hide it better. "Do you understand Governor Grant," I asked, using the formal title with him to get his attention.

"No Olivia," Fitz said, invading my personal space yet again. "I won't let you do this, I won't let you give up on this," he gestured between the two of us. "You can't fix this," Fitz ran his hand through his hair, making the curls stand out every which way. In the back of my mind, I made a mental note to save this image forever and to mention to Cyrus that Fitz and Mellie might be more believable if they weren't always so put together…

"Olivia," he sighed, "Please don't," Fitz begged again for her to give them a chance. I shook my head no. It wouldn't work for them, ever and Fitz had to learn to understand and accept that. Besides as my mother had always said, once a cheater always a cheater. And I knew firsthand what it was like to grow up in a home where the father frequently cheated on the wife. From the tender age of nine when I learned the truth about my father and his many secretaries, I knew I could never get involved with a married man no matter how I felt. Besides that, I couldn't put Karen and Jerry through what I went through.

Shaking my head I spoke, giving Fitz a little glimpse into my childhood. "You don't understand governor, my father cheated on my mother from the time I was born until his death. I," pointing to myself, "know what it is like to grow up in _that_ kind of a home and I refuse to get involved with someone like you, knowing full well that you are married with children and what it can do," I sighed resignedly, shaking my head once more. "Do you understand now? This is wrong," I waved my hand between us, "for so many reasons. We will only get burned if we continue," I spoke logically, remembering hearing my parents argue, my mother walking around our home a shell of a person with tear stained cheeks, how it took a toll on my father's career. It wasn't worth it for a few moments of ecstasy.

Eons passed before Fitz nodded his head, finally conceding to agree with me, "Fine, but don't expect me to stop," but he trailed off. I nodded my head, giving him another tight lipped smile not waiting for him to continue before exiting the conference room.

As she walked down the hallway, she couldn't help but get an eerie feeling that that wouldn't be the last time she denied herself and Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III what they truly wanted...

**A/U:** So again, I feel the need to write another author's note even though nobody reads them, but whatever! Once again though, I have several things to cover. A) First official chapter up, hell yes! I hope to hear from everyone… B) Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I adored each and every one. C) Once again, important people to thank, babycakesbriauna for editing (thank you for fixing my love for commas) and amaryllis214 for pre-reading (you always push me to fix redundancies and don't get mad when I don't always listen). D) Thank you to the above to ladies for doing all you do to help this story along, it wouldn't be as good without you two! E) If you have taken the time to read the author's note than please take my advice and read the above author's writing, you won't be disappointed. F) I'm irregular at updating, sorry about that. G) Last one, this story will probably end up being a very strong 'T' rating, it probably should be rated 'M', but oh well, it may change, fyi… Probably won't though.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The weeks have flown by with campaigning, kissing babies and prayer meetings, there hasn't been any time to think, much less fraternize. That's what makes me thankful for times like that. Fitz has been so busy and tired that there have been no more incidences. And now, here we are, the night before the polls come in, enjoying our hard work. Governor Grant is up by ten points in New Hampshire and we all think that means we were finally out of the woods and can rest. The confetti is already flying in some rooms and many of the rookie campaigners are trying to strategize for the next state. Cyrus and I know that anything can happen within the next twenty-four hours and are standing with baited breath until the numbers come in. Nobody but the two of us are letting those small facts stand in the way of having a good time though.

"Thank you," Governor Grant smiles to the tipsy room. "It's all you guys." His little speech gives me a moment to collect my thoughts. I am positive the whole campaign crew knows what I have done. Nobody can possibly be that dense, can they? There is little doubt in my mind that everyone presently standing in the room listening to the charismatic man before us knows that I am a home-wrecking whore. The worst part is, I know I only have two options; stick this god awful campaign out and deal with all the lingering looks and whispered sneers, or raise more speculation and leave the campaign all together. Both options are risky and can ruin everything. Sadly though, I know I can't leave Cyrus to do the dirty work all himself.

The precious moment to gather my thoughts is interrupted by the hoots and hollers of all the dedicated campaign workers ,who are ready and willing to have a good time. However, before I can completely gather my thoughts and hide my emotions, someone is talking to me. I know who it is. The telltale shudder that goes through my body whenever he is near is confirmation enough to who it is. I plaster a smile on my face, trying to seem indifferent and neutral, looking at the Adonis before me and the pleased smile on his face clarifies that I failed.

Unlucky for me, I am never completely guarded around Fitzgerald Grant, a flaw that always irritates me. "And you Ms. Pope," his smile widens just slightly with the professional title and his grey eyes danced, "I don't know how you did it," he sighs contentedly, his eyes slowly roaming down my body.

Chuckling, a genuine smile appears on my face for a second, "Well Governor, if we are passing out thanks I do believe you and Mellie deserve most of it," I confide because truth be told, they really are a pair to behold now. "You two seem to be doing a great deal better," I add with a fake smile this time, the sarcasm light in my voice. As I speak about him and his wife, I notice the glimmer in his eyes extinguish. My brows furrow, even after all this, he can't just be happy and deal with what he had been dealt? He truly is an insufferable man at times.

But this time he is the one chuckling. Unlike mine, it isn't light hearted and silly; his is dry and cynical. When I think about it, it reminds me of Cyrus Beene, the only father figure I would ever respect and do anything for. "I think you truly underestimate me as a politician Ms. Pope," the governor whispers out.

As our eyes lock, I actually feel sorry him. He is trapped in a loveless marriage to an ice queen, eloquently nicknamed the "Iron Lady." Then I remember that they have been married for twenty years and surely their unhappiness hasn't occurred over night, and the pity for the governor of California is gone in an instant. He deserves to be in a loveless marriage, nobody should cheat on their spouse, under no circumstances! I break eye contact, not wanting him to see the anger in my own chocolate orbs. All that Fitzgerald Grant has to do was keep acting like he is in love with his wife and everything will be okay.

Breathing deeply, I just have to remember that in two hundred and seventy days I will never have to see Fitzgerald and Mellie Grant ever again if I can help it. I am about to bid him good-night and turn, when he senses what is going to happen and pulls me closer."Livvie," he whispers as I shake my head.

"Don't touch me," I whisper back fiercely, my chocolate eyes meeting molten stone, "You don't deserve to touch me." Looking around, there isn't anybody paying any attention to the two of us. "We are in public, control yourself Governor," I hiss between gritted teeth, "And don't forget your wife is three feet away," motioning with my head to his right.

"Meet me in the conference room in ten minutes," he begs, his expressive grey eyes pulling me in and looking so pitiful. I want to shake my head, but I can't, I am rooted to the spot. If I was a better person, more Jackie Kennedy than Marilyn Monroe, I wouldn't be counting down the seconds until I am able excuse myself for the evening and go to the governor. My heart rate wouldn't have increasing at the possibility of being caught in a few minutes nor would my breath have hitched in desire.

Calming myself down, I head toward the make-shift bar, ready to swallow down several glasses of scotch in quick succession to justify what I know is about to come. Cyrus cuts me off as my mocha fingertips touches the crystal decanter, "We're going to lose tomorrow," he whispers so quiet I think I have misunderstood him. My wide eyes become impossibly wider as I look up into Cyrus's beady blue eyes in horror. His meet mine with a tired, pleading expression shadowing his face.

"What-, how-," I stumble over my words, my mind reeling for a moment before it becomes crystal clear. I am back in fixer mode full force, as much as I want to go sex it up in the conference room with an incredibly attractive man, his campaign comes first, it always will. "Alright, who's leaking it? Which paper has the exclusive? Have they leaked it to any news stations yet," I fire quickly at Cyrus, my eyes holding a determined glint in them that Cyrus's cynical presence is lacking. "Cyrus," I huff at him, my brows furrowing. If Cyrus is silent that meant there was nothing left to do and that it will be more difficult for me to accept than him. "Where are we going to start, if we need to stop this by morning we have," looking at my watch I estimate we have less than five hours to twist this to our advantage. "About five hours," I state matter-of-factly.

Shaking his head, Cyrus looks more defeated than before. I know this is going to be hard for him, "Save it Cy," I raise my hand. "You get Mellie, I'll get the governor," sighing, I grab the decanter of scotch before leaving and flipping the top off, taking a long gulp of the burning, amber liquid.

Nearing the conference room, I sit the decanter down on one of the tables before entering said room I was supposed to be in nearly five minutes ago. Opening the door, the room was dark except for the moon's silver haze penetrating the disserted room. Fitz's piercing gaze meets my defeated one. He has been pacing, and his hands are running through his hair causing it to stick out at peculiar slants and angles. "Livvie," Fitz sighs happily, pulling me to his chiseled chest. "I was worried you wouldn't come," he breathes into my hair. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around him and allow him to envelope me, taking away all my grief, stress and sadness for a brief time.

"Governor," I fight out of his intoxicating grasp, "There's a problem," the words fall out of my mouth before I can try to rephrase them. My tone alerts him to the severity of the problem. His grey eyes burn with curiosity and worry. His brows furrow and he brings his dexterous fingertips to his mouth, tapping them against his full lips waiting for me to continue. I can only assume he is thinking the worse, and his actions are almost calming to my frazzled emotions.

It shows he really does care about his campaign.

I close my eyes to focus again because I can't control my wandering thoughts. They are all over the place, and I know I should never guzzle scotch again. "Governor," I state again, my eyes hardening as they meet his intense stare, "Your wife is having an affair," the words come tumbling out of my mouth again. I can't stop them and I don't even register what I have just said until I see the surprise on his face. The emotions seem wrong. When you tell someone their spouse is having an affair, surprise usually isn't one normally define.

"Did you hear me," the question falls from my plump lips. I have no mental filter now, and I know I won't be of much help anymore tonight. Despite that knowledge, my brows furrow. My guy is telling me something is wrong and my gut is never wrong. The memories of when my mother found out about my father's side-dishes as we have so eloquently called the numerous blonds that walked in and out of my childhood as my father's "friends."

Still there has been no response from the governor; I am beginning to get worried. Turning on the light, I close the door and walk over to the instant coffee, warming up two packets. The timer running out on the microwave seemed to jog the governor out of his astonishment.

"Here," I place the mug of brown sludge into his calloused hand. "I'm sorry-," he cuts me off before I can continue further by laughing. Not the polite chuckle reserved for campaign functions but a gut wrenching, stomach hurting bellow. My face resonates shock. Governor Grant doesn't seem to care; he is physically incapable of holding in the laughter.

"Governor," my voice stern, "I understand this is a shock, but I highly doubt it's a time to be laughing," I shake my head. Does he really care so little for his wife that he's joyous at the opportunity to be rid of her, the question pops into my mind. However, looking back at the governor, he looks like a little boy trying not to laugh as his teacher scolds him.

His face is turning a putrid reddish, purplish color from keeping in the chuckles and the vein in his forehead looks as if it was ready to pop out of his cranium. There are little crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and he is biting his lips to the point where he looks vaguely like that children's show character about the sponge that lived under the rock or something that I'd been forced to watch when my cousin's children were in town. The memory makes me stifle a chortle as well. And Governor Grant notices too, finally calming down to take a sip of the coffee in his mug before sputtering it back into the cup due to the horrendous taste.

"Is this really the shit that keeps you and Cy going all hours of the night," he questions, raising a well groomed eyebrow at me. Shrugging, I nod, giving him a pointed look to Governor Grant back onto the subject at hand.

"You realize I just told you that your wife might be having an affair," sighing, looking down at the piss poor coffee in my own mug before going to sit at the table as my gaze meets his. Nodding his head yes, he follows my lead and sits across from me, pushing his coffee to the side.

Nodding again, the governor goes to take a sip of the coffee before realizing the awful taste is still in his mouth and thinks better of it. "You don't understand the situation Livvie," he smirks slightly at me not correcting the use of my nickname. "My marriage is," Governor trails off, mulling over his next words, "Is unconventional to say the least," are the words he ends up choosing. Now though, I can sense the disgust in his voice. Sadly though, I don't know if it is due to our current predicament or his unconventional marriage as he puts it.

My brows furrow deeper as I consider his words. Registering what he means, my sympathy evaporates and is replaced with disgust, "You mean to tell me that your unconventional marriage," I spit the words in utter contempt, "Allowed you to be unfaithful to each other," the question sounds absurd to even my own ears. "Were-are, are you two swingers," I throw at him again awaiting his response. He can't really think that just because his marriage is unconventional that it won't matter to the American people.

"Nevermind," I raise my hand, "don't tell me, tell Cyrus," sighing I head towards the door. Turning when I get to the knob, I notice he is still sitting in his chair, staring across the table at my empty seat. "Governor, we need to go find Cyrus," I grit through my teeth as my jaw flexes with frustration towards this man. "Governor," this time I say with force behind the word. "We need to go."

Governor Grant stands, his knees cracking as he does so, turning his face is shrouded in anger. I am turning the knob when his hand pulls me away from the door. "No Olivia," he gnashes out, "I want you to know, so sit your ass," he motions to the chair he just vacated, "and listen to what I have to say then judge me," he growls out. Several seconds pass and I refuse to move, my mouth opens and closes much like a goldfish, while I try to formulate a response for us to leave and find Mellie and Cyrus. So Governor Grant takes this as an opportunity to shove me into his vacated chair and stands before me.

"Governor, really, there's no need to explain. It's a private matter between Mellie and yourself," I sputter, trying to make him stop. I don't want to hear about their sordid sexual relationship. The mere thought of Governor Grant having sex with someone other than me makes my stomach twist and my throat constrict. I look into his eyes pleading with him, but he isn't looking at me.

Instead, he is gazing at the coffee mug he had placed down earlier. Continuing to look at the red coffee cup that read 'Vote Grant,' as he starts speaking despite my request. "Mellie and I have known each other since we were ten years old, our parents both vacationed at Martha's Vineyard," he explains. I nod my head, looking down into my own coffee cup. "There had never been any romantic relationship between us even in our teen years when I'd fuck anything with a pulse," chuckling he shakes his head.

"Nothing's changed since then," I whisper under my breath, hoping the governor won't hear. He is too close though and I know he will. Subconsciously, I know I said that to get a rise out of him and to tell me that he's never cheated on his wife before me, or I am the only one he would ever do that with, that I am special or something like that, but the Governor doesn't say anything of that nature. Instead, I feel his fiery gaze burning holes into my head. I can tell I've infuriated him, but I don't realize how badly until he speaks. When he does, it is so much worse.

"God dammit, Olivia," he roar. I feel his breath on my forehead and it makes me want to look up to see his anger, but I don't. "Just listen, okay, no snide comments or eye rolls, you don't know jackshit and you can't act like you do," he huffs at me. "Mellie and I, we've been friends for over thirty years. She was and will always be here for me no matter what." I've known that from the start, these two people will do anything for each other; it is in the looks they give one another.

"We went to the same prep school, then college and we have always known each other. There was never any, any," he emphasizes, "romantic feelings for the other, we had dated off and on throughout the years and our parents always pushed us together," he explains, much calmer now that I have kept my mouth shut. "So naturally in law school we got much closer, she would make me study," he clarifies. I raise my brow, but hold my tongue. He in turn held his anger in check. "Then after law school, we were still doing well and I decided to get married to my friend," Governor Grant smiles wistfully for I assume he remembers the night he proposed. "She said yes and, and," his eyes prickle with tears, "we were married on April 15th, it was a great day," I hold my hand up for him to stop. I don't want to hear how anymore about his tainted marriage.

"Please," I beg, I don't know how much more I can take before I lose the small amount of food I've had the time to eat today. Shaking his head, the governor continues. "Governor," I sigh before resigning to have to hear everything he has to say about his marriage.

"Our vows weren't the traditional ones, we weren't in love, it was just what people who dated throughout their lives were supposed to do. It was what my parents had done and my parents, parents so what made me any different," the question is rhetorical but I have the urge to respond in case that makes him stop, but he doesn't give me the chance to interrupt him. "We vowed to support, protect and be the best of friends. It wasn't traditional, romantic or what any little girl would expect on their wedding day, but it fit us," he says with a head nod as if his explanation was making perfect sense.

He is looking into my eyes as he continues, "She started her career and I started mine. First by running for mayor, governor and now president, it was the natural progression of our lives that our parents had always hoped for us. We were their pride and joy, then Mellie stopped working to raise the kids and everything was good for a long time until," he trails off, breaking our eye-contact and scuffing his shoe on the ground as he begins worrying his bottom lip, "Mellie met someone on a business trip when I was campaigning. I'd had several discreet flings over the years so I was in no position to tell her to end it," he sighs, shaking his head. "I would've been a hypocrite and that someone was the love of her life, I couldn't, no I wouldn't make her give him up."

I am speechless, this man has always been in a loveless marriage. It makes me want to slap him for his stupidity. If someone asked him to roll down a hill wrapped in barbed wire just because his forefathers had before him had done it, would he be stupid enough to do it? The whole situation is more than I can handle at the moment.

"That's ridiculous. You don't marry your best friend because you're pressured into it," seething, I stand up and get in his face, "You can't go around having others dictate your life. You should have grown a backbone or at least gotten out before now," I yell, jabbing my finger at him. "Neither of you deserve that, to be forever bonded to someone you don't love, marriage is supposed to be sacred, not the next step in your pathetic little life," I preach. "And your poor children, what kind of morals have you taught them," the question is cut short before I can continue.

"Don't you ever say I'm a bad father," Governor Grant spits, his features distorting with rage. "My kids come before anything in this world and I'd do anything to protect them from the fate I've conceded myself to live," he says, his eyes flashing and voice eerily calm. His tone tells me not to push the subject further but I can't help it.

Moving away from the raging governor, I raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow and smile sweetly, "So please tell me, how do you fake having a perfect marriage for your children's sake when you can't even do it effectively during your campaign?"

He doesn't respond for several minutes. The features that were previously distorted in anger seem to be confused. "My wife and I will do anything for our children," he says eerily calm again, "We tolerate each other in their presence because we love and care about them," is his simple response.

"You better try fucking harder," is all I say as I move closer to the door, "Not just for your children's sack either. If you want to win this presidency as bad as Cyrus made it seem when I signed on, try harder or I'm done. Try harder, be more believable or this is going to be a disastrous end to your campaign," I warn, "We can't afford you to relax, there have been allegations made about your wife and we need to spin this to make it look like it isn't true. So for the love of god, try a little fucking harder. I don't care if it's for you or your kids, just do it," I lock eyes with him , letting the governor know this isn't a suggestion but an order, "because I don't lose anything and remember that," I nod my head before gesturing him to walk out the door to find Mellie and our sausage factory maker.

**A/N**: Well here's another pointless author's note.. I really don't know why I'm still writing these things! So anyway, as always, several things to say: A) Thank you everybody for reviewing. You have no idea how much it means to me that I've had such great response to the few chapters of the story. B) As always, I thank the two lovely ladies who help me out with this story, babycakesbriauna and amaryillis214! It wouldn't be nearly as good without you two helping me fix errors and such. C) We have moved onto chapter two.. fuck yes! Excuse my language, I swear a lot. D) I'm making this story my own, so some events may seem out of order, but that's how I intended it to be and that's how it will remain! E) I'd love to hear from everybody out there. They make me smile really brightly! F) I'm sorry I don't update regularly, but with two others prof-reading the story and my own life being busy, updates will continue to be irregular. G) Last one; sorry for no Livvie/Fitz smexy goodness. I'm thinking I owe you guys and their might just be a very descriptive sex scene in the next chapter.. Let me know what you think about that though!


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

My throat still constricted uncomfortably whenever I thought about the New Hampshire incident. Cyrus had been right; we'd lost miserably after the allegations leaked. I'd stayed up all night trying to figure out a strategy or a statement to make but it was worthless. This kind of scandal didn't only hurt a Republican candidate but any candidate.

And it set Fitzgerald Grant III back to before anybody even knew his name. He wasn't only set back in the polls by a small margin, but a gargantuan! Reportedly there was going to be a record breaking number of voters in the small east coast state but that was before anyone spoke of the governor's wife and her suspected trysts. Our luck leads seventy-eight percent of New Hampshire residents to vote... In favor of Senator Sally Langston. She won in a landslide, fifty-five percent to our measly twenty-three percent.

The last week or so had been miserable. We'd moved from New Hampshire to South Carolina and the allegations had only gotten worse. Cyrus had hoped that after we'd made an official statement disputing them that the next disastrous event would come along and the governor and his wife would be old news. That plan had not worked; the story had slowly picked up more coverage because the man wasn't denying it. That's how I ended up in swanky bar sipping scotch at twelve thirty in the afternoon waiting for Billy Chambers.

It was horribly humbling having to take a meeting with the competition, but for the first time I didn't know how to make this go away. No matter what we tried to do, the church meetings, baseball games, school functions, it wasn't enough to make this disappear.

I was frustrated to no end and all that I wanted to do was pound back my glass of scotch and order another, but I had to remain professional. Normally, I didn't have a problem keeping my private life tendencies, just that, private. But the situation I had gotten myself into made me lose my equilibrium.

Adding to my stress was the impending meeting with Billy, which he was three minutes late for and the television above me was tuned into CNN which was showing full coverage of the ever present thorn in my side that was Governor Grant's marriage. I was ordering my second glass of scotch when Billy Chambers arrived, texting on his Blackberry no less. "So nice of you to spare me a moment of your time Billy," I smiled trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

His receding hairline looked up in shock before a smarmy smile spread across his oval face with the too wide forehead and broad, crocked nose. "Olivia Pope," his smirk widened as he sat down ordering whiskey. "Thanks for meeting me," the hand he extended to me almost made the formal smile slide from its place securely stuck position on my face. The man gave me the creeps, his blue eyes held a dark edge to them that made my gut twist uncomfortably, automatically making my shoulder muscles coil into tight little knots.

Taking his hand, I shook it firmly before quickly withdrawing it and wrapping it around my glass taking another sip. "What do you want Billy," I finally asked exasperatedly when he made no move to continue. Turning I looked at him with a perfectly arched eyebrow as a cat-who-ate-the-canary look spread across his ugly, impish face.

"Ahh," sighing as he drug out the 'h', "You always were one to take charge, I like that about you," Billy smiled, gulping down his lighter fluid, as my grandpapi used to call the coppery drink.

I was getting irritated and it was getting harder to keep the neutral smile on my face. Pushing my glass away, I was waiting for Billy to get to his point, but he kept stalling. "No bullshit makes for a good head of communications, you must not know that," I replied cheekily. "So I ask again, what do you want Billy or I'm leaving and you can pay my tab."

His eyebrows rose again, his smarmy smile deepening before he shook his head slowly at me. "Can't we just enjoy each other's company for a bit, have a couple drinks, get to know each other," firing the questions at me in a slow, laid-back pace. It seemed like the words would get stuck in his throat before he spoke them.

"Billy, I don't have time for this, I have a campaign to run," sighing before pulling my drink closer again to take a large sip, "And from what I've heard enjoying each other's company either means you're interested and feelings get involved or that you're just horny and need a good fuck," I smirked as the shock expression from before came to Billy's opaque, wrinkled skin. "Considering I don't shit where I eat the first option is a no go and the second no thank you. I have a B.O.B which makes me a very happy girl and you have hands," clapping my hands together animatedly before continuing on to explain why all of his other suggestions wouldn't work. Enunciating clearly and quickly, I smiled, "Now Billy please, why did you call me here because we both know it's not because you wanted to get to know me better," smiling falsely while scrunching up my nose.

Smirking again, Billy shook his head. "Well when you put it that way," he trails off before locking eyes with me and a genuine smile crosses his face for a moment, "You did a hell of a job with those two," congratulating me. "But Livi," sneering at the nickname I allow few to call me, "You can't spin a dead marriage. Now Sally and Doug though, wow," his eyes bulge and a small shiver racks through his body, "They are like a couple of teenagers, can't keep their hands off each other," exclaiming as he throws his soft baby hands up in the air. "It is actually disgusting," he admits.

Shaking my head I can feel the pressure building by my temples signaling that a severe migraine is coming on. "As fascinating as that is, I don't care, what do you want," I asked harshly, causing my brows to furrow.

"Concede before South Carolina and we will give you the VP slot," Billy stated bluntly. A huge smile spread out across his face, like he actually thought we'd take the offer.

I had to have a little fun with the poor guy though. I widened my eyes, biting my lip and a sheepish smile crossed my face before I bite my lip again, nodding my head up and down as I debated how to let him down so harshly that he didn't even remember why he had become a communications director. Dropping eye contact, so did the innocent, submissive act. "I'll take my check now," I motioned for the bar tender to bring over the tiny white slip of glossy paper. I gave the man a nice smile before hearing Billy laughing to the side of me.

Still chuckling, he began speaking quickly and enthusiastically. "Oh come on, imagine us on the same team. We'd be unstoppable!" His eyes sparkled and it made me want to laugh in his face. If this was how he got people to do things for him, he needed to go back to school and get some new pointers. "Play the spin machine, wrangle reporters, order some nice meals on the trail, do you like barbecue," he asked. Billy Chambers must be one delusional man if he seriously thinks that his sweet talking could get me to give up Governor Grant's dream.

Looking up from pulling the cash out of my wallet, I rolled my eyes at the check. Setting the correct amount of money down, I glanced up through my lashes at Billy, a crooked smile gracing my lips as my eyes flashed with mirth, "Are you asking me to concede or out on a date," the question hung in the air between us as Billy decided between the two.

It took him several minutes to decide and in that time, I decided that the man before me really was delusional. "Maybe a little bit of both," winking one of his cerulean eyes at me.

Standing up, it was my turn to chuckle at his answer. Walking to the next chair I grabbed my bag before responding to his comment, "I hate barbeque." Pushing my purse up to my shoulder and beginning to turn as he spoke again.

"You are awfully confident for someone who doesn't have any cards left to play," Billy grinned. He should really get his head checked if he thought I'd go down so easily without a fight. I just laughed as I began walking out the door again.

When I got to the exit I turned and winked at him with a bright smile on my face. "I always have cards left to play," smiling as I strutted out of the bar. Leaving the bar, I went down the street to find one of the men that would help me get this campaign back on course.

It hadn't taken long to find Huck. I knew he would still be in DC in case I ever needed him and my heart swelled with appreciation and love that he would do that for me. Stopping into the nearby Starbucks, I grabbed two black coffees. Walking further down the street I saw what appeared to be a homeless person sitting in the opening of an alleyway. Little did everyone know that he could kill you twenty-seven ways with his bare hands in less than six minutes.

That thought alone should have scared me off, but I knew deep down that Huck wasn't a coldblooded killer like most would assume. He was just a scared, confused man that had had everything taken from him by the government. Walking by him, his head immediately shot up and a weak, hoarse voice called out my name.

Turning around I gave him a warm, open smile, bending down to give him his coffee. "Hey Huck," I sighed, taking in his appearance. All that I could say was that when he didn't want anyone finding him, he truly made sure they didn't. Huck had a long stringy beard covering most of his face with old, falling apart combat boots and a long green trench coat on. His beady black eyes looked hollow and cold, almost calculating if he could trust you or not, but I knew that was just how he was now that he had been black balled.

"Are you ready to renter the real world today," asking softly with a firm tone. I felt if I spoke to loud I'd scare him off. "We need you out here," I smiled again as he gulped down his coffee. Huck looked up at me as I spoke a small smile graced his mangled features.

It took him several minutes and many strange looks before the hoarse voice spoke again, "I am Livi," sighing I stand up and reach down for his hand which he refuses to touch and stands up on his own. "What are we doing this time babe," he whispers as he follows me into an awaiting car.

As we pulled up to the hotel I could practically feel Huck's anxiety rolling off him in waves. "It'll be okay," I whisper, grasping his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze as we got out of the car and began to enter the facility. Upon actually entering the campaign room, I got the exact reaction I thought I would. It didn't bother either of us though.

All of the stares and nasty looks would not matter after Huck saved the campaign. If that happened, I would make sure that Huck didn't have to go back to his alleyway either.

However, neither Governor Grant nor Mellie were as grateful or as welcoming as I thought they would be. "This is the man that is supposed to save my campaign," Governor Grant asked unimpressed and Mellie was silent with a look of unabashed horror as Huck looked around sizing everyone up and eating like there was no tomorrow.

Nodding my head with a knowing smile, "Governor if they look like weapons they are hard to keep secret," I sighed with my hand on my hip as I was looking at Huck with admiration and hope. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Governor Grant clenching and unclenching his fists as he jaw grew tight. "Trust me," I whispered to the small group.

When Huck was full, he stood and commanded the room. It made everyone look and stare in astonishment. "Paul Mosley, literacy policy adviser-," Huck spoke in his deep raspy voice and was interrupted by Mellie. I was about to hush Mellie because I wasn't sure how Huck would act being interrupted. He didn't talk much and when he did everyone knew it was important, apparently Mellie didn't understand this.

"We all know who he is," she snipped, her eyes watering like the true actress she was, "He was advising me on literacy, but that's it. I couldn't, I would never," sighing, her head whipped to the governor, Cyrus and I, trying to sell us on the story. I couldn't even act like I believed the lies she was spewing to the room. I could feel my right eye start to twitch and I knew I had to excuse myself before someone noticed I was giving Mellie an evil look. I whispered quietly that I had to use the bathroom.

Upon getting out of the room I slipped into the launders area and all the staff cleared out in a matter of seconds. The room was heady with steam and the smell of soap. As the head launder was walking by I gave him a small thankful smile. Soon the room was vacated and I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

I couldn't even look at Mellie as she churned out the lies about being faithful and loving; it made me see red that two people could so easily fake love. They were so free with such a sacred bonding, they really were good politicians. Nothing and nobody would ever stand in their way if they were as ruthless in their marriage as they were with everyone else. My thoughts were interrupted when the door burst open and I immediately straightened, ready to yell at anyone who entered while I was letting my guard down.

There was a crushing feeling in my chest before words were even spoken. I immediately knew who would dare pull me so close in such a public setting. "Are you okay," he breathed out as a statement instead of a question. I was fighting against him when his lips reverently kept touching my hair. He couldn't do this, he had a wife two doors down and I couldn't do this. He knew I couldn't do this.

"Governor Grant let me go," I voiced sternly. The formal title made him spring away from me. "Please go away, I just need a minute," I murmured, looking down at the ground.

I hated being this close to him, it made me feel appalling and dirty. Because no matter how many times I told myself that this thing between us wasn't there and no matter how many times I denied it, the truth of the matter is, there _was_ something between us. And sooner or later, I wasn't going to be able to stay strong.

Whenever the governor was near me, I felt more alive than I had ever felt around any other man but it didn't change anything because what we had done was wrong. Oh so very wrong and I would never let that happen, or so I told myself. I didn't care if he had an unconventional marriage, he can go bark up another tree in that case. "You should get back to the conference room, I-I just need a minute."

His stone eyes were pleading, but I couldn't give them what they wanted. I wouldn't give into him. Even if he was my kryptonite. "I need you," he breathed. Fitz's hand snuck out to caress my cheek and I instinctively moved away. He unraveled me, I couldn't think rationally around him. Especially like this.

The two grey orbs captivated me. His eyes held a blazing, warm fire in them whenever our drastically different gazes met. I felt like he was always looking through me instead of at me, reading my mind. As if he knew that I constantly thought of how his hands had pawed at me or how I had submissively fallen to my knees to pleasure him. All the dirty things that fell from my mouth, it was like he could tell I needed to buy new panties everyday because I always ruined them. _Because of him. _

"Leave now," I whispered, with dominating authority. "Go back to your wife governor, she needs you more than I ever will," I bite out. Once the words are out, I know they are lies. I need him to stay. I need him.

His eyes flash with a challenging gleam. "Mellie needs me," he mocked, backing further away to flick the lock on the cheap door handle. "She needs as much as I need a warm shower to wake me up in the morning," the governor smirked as he stalked me like a lion ready to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle. "What I need," the dictating governor before me whispered as he bent down to my ear, "Is you, one more time, a hundred more times. _You_," he emphasized with a long finger trailing down the buttons of my shirt. His bewitching fingers were just pulling the pearl button through the loop when I realized what he was doing.

"Stop," the word slipped out as a moan instead of a demand. I was weak and horny, we both knew it, but the images of my father tucking in his shirt as a mussed up secretary scurried out of his office kept flitting through my mind. The emotions made my throat raw, unable to speak. His dexterous fingers had unbuttoned the first three buttons and was working on the fourth when I stood back, pushing his hands away. "Stop," I hurriedly began threading the small pearls through their correct hole when his hands halted my own.

Why couldn't he understand how wrong this was? How could he not see that after one time my sin was tearing me apart? I wasn't a particularly religious person, but if there was a god, I was hoping he could save my wretched soul. "I can't Olivia, I wish I could," he pleaded, his steely gray eyes meeting mine. They looked tormented and regretful, it made me gasp. "I can't stay away from you. I know I should, but when I'm away I can't think, I can't sleep, I can barely function," he whimpered as if in physical pain. There was a small part of me that wanted to believe every word that spilled from his perfect mouth. But I couldn't. I wanted something, _this_, to be real. It wasn't though, it couldn't be, and it never would be.

The tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had barely known Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III for three months and I would never let someone who I had known for such diminutive time have such an effect on me. Nobody had ever gotten that close and nobody would, especially a married man. I would, no couldn't be like my father's women. "Do you still sleep with your wife? Do you still fuck her like you fuck me," I bit out with venom in my words, wanting to offend him. Fitzgerald Grant needs to learn he can't always get what he wants. "Do you wake up in the middle of the night and wish it was me you were screwing," the questions roll from my pursed lips and I don't feel the least bit sorry. Because then I did everything in my power to stop another child seeing the parade of women go through their front door. Then I could rest in peace, despite my heart getting torn apart in the process.

"Olivia," Fitz stepped closer, his thumbs coming up to caress my cheeks, "Livvie," he whispered my name reverently. His reaction shocked me; he wouldn't give up even with my biting words. I needed him to give up. When his eyes caught mine again, he didn't give me a chance to push away or come up with a witty or biting comment again. Fitz's supple lips were on mine and unwavering, bruising my own. And for just a moment, I let myself melt into his sculpted body-we fit perfectly together.

He sighs into my mouth and it doesn't go unnoticed that he pulls me impossibly closer, bruising my hip bone with his vice grip. However, I know that we can only afford one minute. "Governor Grant," I moan as I shove his rigid chest away from me, while the good governor keeps me close with his grip never wavering. Every kiss and touch and stolen moment, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III was worming his way into my heart and I hated myself for it.

When breathing was a necessity, I grabbed his hands from around my waist, gasping for the oxygen to fill my lungs, "All pretenses aside," I grabbed his hand more forcefully, as our drastically different gazes held the others; mine filled with begging, pleading and hatred, while his were filled with determination, exasperation, and desire. "I-We-This," I gestured back and forth between us, unsure how to continue because deep down I knew I didn't want this to end. His eyes now held a slight glimmer of doubt they hadn't moments ago, but fumbling over my words, we both knew my argument wouldn't be strong enough.

"This is wrong, so fucking wrong," I burst, my emotions going up and down every other moment. "Why the hell can't you see that," throwing his hands away from me, finally allowing some space between us. "Why can't you go back to your wife like this never happened, why can't you let me figure out my own shit, I can't do this," I thrust my hands into my thick, tamed hair, closing my eyes in hope my life wasn't as fucked up as I thought. "I just can't do this," I whispered again, sighing dejectedly. But it was.

His shallow breathing alerted me to the control he was exerting to stay calm or stay away, which I was not entirely sure. "Please, just let me go," I beg, the fact of the matter was, I'm so afraid of what will happen, who I'll become, what I'll do, how weak I'll get, I don't even care that in reality I'm already there. I'm already in too deep to see another way out. "We need to keep this professional," I breathe, but once again, he's invading my senses. His hands are back on my hips crushing me too him and I can't let go. I can't just leave.

"One minute," is hushed between us as our eyes meet again and we hold each other's burning eyes, unable to look anywhere else, see the time elapsing, see us slipping away.

"One-," there's a harsh knock on the door, and I'm thankful for it, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I know, we can't keep playing cat and mouse forever. One day I'll cave, one day I'll fuck up my career, his marriage, my life, my engagement. I give him a soft smile before breathing deeply and opening the door to the confused staff.

"Thank you, I'm sorry for wasting your time," I smile to the launderers and other staff milling in the hallway. In the distance, I see Cyrus smiling sadly at me, like he knows what's going to happen, what has happened. I smile back reassuringly and walk forward with as much dignity as I can, before going back into the clusterfuck of a hell hole that is my life.

**Hi everybody! I'm sorry for not updating in forever, my life has gotten hectic and as much as I'd love to say it's going to get better, it probably won't. So anyway A) sorry for the long wait again! B) Hope you like it.. And I'm curious to see if anybody catches the little twist I threw in.. C) This isn't proofread by anybody, so I take blame for every and all errors, please don't be too harsh! D) I'm sorry that not a lot has happened.. I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with it yet, any ideas, feel free to give em' to me! E) I know I may have promised a sex scene to some of you.. But it hasn't felt right yet. I don't want to rush it, I want it to build and be magical! Anyway, F) leave me a review, please! I love every single one! **oHJH


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